Mission to Save
by Crystalteen
Summary: Mike and Chris were the only two that survived until dawn. Now, a month later, Mike is standing out on the edge of a rooftop, seeing no more reason to live. At the same time, Chris is determined to save the last friend that he has. However, will he manage to do so? One-shot.


**A/N: Greetings, my fantastic viewers. Crystalteen here!**

 **After struggling to find the desire to write lately, considering I've also been caught up in juggling plenty of schoolwork, inspiration has finally managed to strike me! With that being said, this one-shot is inspired by the songs "Lullaby" by Nickelback and "My R" by Rachie. I don't own either of these songs, nor do I own the artwork that's being used for the cover of this one-shot.**

 **Warning : This one-shot contains the topic of suicide, as well as graphic descriptions of self-harm and depression. If any of these topics trigger you, I highly suggest proceeding with caution.**

 **Note : This isn't, in any way, a romance/pairing one-shot.**

 **Also, by any chance, if anyone that's reading this is a fan of my other Until Dawn story "Return to Blackwood Mountain," allow me to assure you all that I'm still writing it. I understand that I haven't updated anything in quite some months, but that's only because I've been caught up in handling college. I'm constantly working on assignments and I'm still trying to get used to all of the changes, so please bear with me. Nothing is going to stop me from writing. I'll update "Return to Blackwood Mountain" whenever I find the time to keep up with the next chapter.**

 **Now, please feel free to share your thoughts on this one-shot in the reviews or you can PM them to me at anytime. Don't hold yourselves back! I appreciate feedback very much and I always look forward to it!**

 **I believe that I stated everything that I wanted to. Enjoy the one-shot, everybody!**

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Chris's POV

I used to think that there was nothing in my entire life that could've possibly been scarier than anything that I'd seen on Blackwood Mountain. All of my friends—excluding one—had perished in the cruelest and most violent ways, leaving mental scars that were going to follow me for the rest of my life. Now, after just a month of being forced to move on from everything that had happened with the Wendigos, I was standing on the rooftop of Haywood University and staring in utter disbelief from the doorway at something that was _much_ more frightening.

With dark clouds filling every inch of the sky and a chilly rainfall accompanying the dreary atmosphere, I saw Michael Munroe—the second and last winter getaway survivor—standing at the far opposite side of the rooftop. He was holding onto the railing with one hand, but standing on the incorrect side and looking down at the ten story drop that was just a single footstep away from him. Not only that, but he was completely drenched from head to toe, indicating that he had been out here and possibly standing on that ledge for far too long.

Mike's dark hair was like a damp mop, hanging raggedly in his face. Then, there were his clothes: a short-sleeved, orange and black flannel with a pair of dark blue jeans that were soaked to the point where they were completely wrinkled and looking like they were actually _part_ of his body.

His shoes were left directly behind him on the correct side of the railing, along with an old, dirtied, dark green jacket that I recalled him wearing back on the mountain. It was neatly folded, sitting beside a pair of dark blue combat boots that had one set of laces horribly tangled and the other set left sadly untouched. With this particular setup, there was no doubt in my mind on what was more than likely just a mere second away from happening...

I could've sworn that my stomach dropped all the way down to my ankles. My entire body felt heavier than cement and I practically had to use every last speck of my willpower to prevent myself from collapsing to my knees as my legs quivered like jelly. With every rapid pump that my heart made, it felt like it managed to roughly jump all the way up into my throat before plummeting back down to my chest. Physical pain was triggered by my madly increased heartbeat, feeling like one immediate punch was greeting my body after another.

My jaw automatically dropped and my pale blue eyes became bigger than two globes at the sight. Even over the sound of the rain splattering against the surface of the roof, along with the few benches that were placed in certain spots in case students wanted to enjoy their lunches up here, I could still hear the sound of Mike trying to choke back his sobs. In fact, I didn't know whether it was because he was my friend or because I was in total shock or what ... but the loudness of the rainfall might as well have been nonexistent. My focus was entirely on Mike and the _major_ predicament that he had evidently placed himself in.

"M-Michael! Dude!" I called out as I shot my trembling arm out in front of myself, as if it would stretch all the way over to him. "W-wait! Don't do it!"

In less than a second, Mike snapped his attention over to me so fast to the point where I was surprised that he didn't end up breaking his neck. At the realization of my presence, his dark brown eyes grew to be twice their normal size; and even with the distance that was between us, I could clearly see how puffy, irritated, and bloodshot they were.

With every passing second, this entire situation was getting more and more difficult to believe. Those eyes—the same ones that used to be filled with so much confidence, charm, and adventure—were now overflowing with helplessness and teardrops. He was even soaked to the point where I couldn't tell if the water that was streaming down his face were raindrops, tears, or a mixture of both. Of all people on the planet, I never pictured _Mike_ being one that would turn out to be so damn distraught.

"C-Chris!" Michael exclaimed, sounding just as broken as he looked. "W-what—what are you doing up here?!"

"You ... y-you wouldn't answer your phone ... o-or respond to any texts..." I stumbled over my words, feeling my tongue spasm with every stutter due to how I was trying to get my response out so quickly. It turns out, I was so stunned by this nerve-wracking situation to the point where it felt like all of the oxygen had been abruptly sucked out of my lungs.

"I-I've been looking everywhere for you to make sure that everything was alright!"

I tried taking a few hasty steps forward as I said that last sentence, but instantly jerked to a halt in the freezing storm when Mike sharply motioned for me to stay away with his other hand. As he did this, I couldn't help but notice in my alerted state that there were a variety of cuts—some looking much more recent and inflamed compared to others—slashed across every last piece of skin that covered Mike's wrist. Not only that, but until now, I had failed to realize that his other wrist just so happened to be wrapped up in some bandages that were in the process of falling apart from getting drenched in the intense rainfall.

"Stop! I swear, by all that's holy, I _will_ jump!" He bellowed in a tone that was a mixture of panic, seriousness, and devastation. " _Don't_ come near me!"

I held my hands up to my shoulders and took the faintest step back, as if I were surrendering. There were no words that could possibly describe how strong my desire was to charge over to the railing and yank him back over to the correct side. However, I knew that Mike was a man of his word and his safety was all that mattered to me right now. If I approached him, he _would_ throw himself off the roof.

"Mike, come on! ... L-let's talk about this! Okay, buddy?" I tried my hardest to sound encouraging, but my voice—much to my dismay—wouldn't stop exposing just how terrified I truly was. "Just—just climb back over the railing..."

The agony increased even more across Mike's features—if that was even possible. He blinked multiple times, sometimes squeezing his eyes shut to the point where it obvious to me that he was hoping that by doing that, I would disappear and leave him to do what he was planning to do. Every time he did this, hundreds of more teardrops spilled down his cheeks and I saw that his eyes were on the verge of becoming swelled shut. They looked so effing raw...

Eventually, after what felt like a century of waiting to hear his response, Michael turned his gaze away from me and stared back down at the fatal height that was directly in front of him with his entire face masked by a miserable frown.

"I ... I can't do that, man."

While speaking, Mike's grip on the railing increased to the point where his knuckles became whiter than flour and his shoulders started to shake a little. Until now, I had failed to realize that the hand that Michael was using to hang onto the only thing that seemed to have been keeping him on that ledge for the time being was the hand that he had injured drastically back on Blackwood. He had lost two fingers in a painful booby trap that involved a hidden bear trap and just recently had the stitches removed. So, the slight stubs that he had where his fingers used to be were covered in calluses.

Behind the frames of my glasses—which were now almost entirely impossible to see through due to being exposed to the rain—the desperation in my eyes was increasing. After losing the group of friends that I've known ever since my early childhood, I knew that I couldn't allow myself to give up and just turn my back on the only friend that I had left so he could kill himself.

"Michael, please!" I attempted to speak again while feeling a painful lump starting to form in the middle of my throat. "If you climb back over, I can help you! We can—"

In one swift motion, the dark-haired teen punctured me with the most depressing expression in all of existence from over his shoulder.

"No! I _can't!_ " He barked, right before he started speaking through tightly clenched teeth. "I _deserve_ to be on this ledge right now, Christopher! I _deserve_ to have myself thrown over it so I can fall! And you bet your ass that I deserve to have every last bone in my body broken against the concrete below! It's the last sensation that I deserve to feel before dying and having my worthless ass dragged to whatever hell is in store for me in the next life!"

With every word that came out of Mike's mouth, the more strained and congested his voice became. His breathing was also picking up the pace, showing that he was having a much harder time keeping his wails contained.

I slowly shook my head in disbelief while listening to that distressing declaration and forced myself to take the smallest two steps forward. Luckily, Mike had screwed his eyes shut in order to clear some water from his vision while I had done it. So, he didn't catch me moving ... but that didn't stop me from feeling the contents of my stomach getting swirled around by my intense emotions. Just because Michael didn't notice it now, _didn't_ mean that he wouldn't notice it sooner or later ... and by the time he _would_ notice me approaching him, it would be too late.

" _Don't_ say stuff like that, Mike." I said in a surprisingly stable tone, despite the mixture of horror and desperation that were still revealed on my face. "You're only nineteen and I can guarantee you that living only nineteen years is _nowhere near enough!_ There's still _so much_ for you to do here! You have _so many_ great opportunities and a _whole life_ ahead of you!"

A loud _BOOM_ erupted through the air and was immediately followed by a blinding white flash of lightning that crackled across the eerie sky. I flinched a little from both, but other than that, Michael and I were still completely invested in this suicide attempt.

"What _life?!_ " Mike practically screamed at the top of his lungs, shedding even more tears. "Chris, ever since everything that happened on that— _that damn mountain,_ my life has crumbled apart right before my eyes and turned into a living hell! I shouldn't have even made it until dawn in the first place!"

The sight of that rescue helicopter breaking through the vibrant colors of the sunrise would always be branded in my mind. After being forced to wait and fight for our survival for what felt like a eternity, it should've been the greatest thing that had ever happened in my entire life. Instead, with my best friend, along with Matt and Jess, being MIA and the rest of the group being incinerated to death in a gigantic explosion that took place right in front of me, it turned out to be the most devastating ride that I've ever experienced. I would never forget how dull and fatigued Mike looked. During the entire flight to the hospital, he never said a word or grimaced—not even when one of the rangers started applying medicine to the two long claw marks that were left on his neck from a Wendigo. It was almost like ... the life had been removed from him.

Those claw marks were also still visible on the side of Mike's neck, except they were now permanent scars that were impossible not to look at.

"Y-you don't _really_ mean that!" I objected as an anxious frown tugged roughly at the corners of my lips. "A-after _everything_ that we had no choice but to battle against and b-being forced to gamble with our lives..."

I trailed off, almost rendered speechless by the tragic gaze that the dark-haired teen was shooting in my direction. His eyes were starting to look empty, meaning that it wasn't going to be long before he carelessly jumped off the roof and perished to his death. Needless to say, this caused my worry to sharply increase and, with my heart rate continuing to rise and the ice cold rain drenching me, the only thing that I could think was, " _Mike **can't** die. He **can't.**_ "

"Don't you get it, Chris?! This world is just not my place! ... In fact, I don't think it ever was!" Mike drew in a long, stuffy breath through his nose and continued to intensely weep. "Before the winter getaway, everybody saw me as Mr. Popular! The 'picture-perfect' Class President that attracted all the ladies, got the best grades, and _couldn't possibly_ have had any problems going on in his life! I was forced to keep everything to myself for the sake of some meaningless reputation! My dad's layoff, my mom's anxiety disorder, my aunt's breast cancer, my eldest brother's MIA notice from his station in Iraq ... _everything_ was kept inside! I've even lost track of how many years its all been locked away in there!"

As he exclaimed that last part, Mike placed his unoccupied hand over his heart, clenched a handful of his shirt that resulted in his fist quivering, screwed his eyes shut as tightly as possible, and started grinding his teeth again.

"And now, ever since those _assholes_ on the news channel talked about what happened on that mountain with the Wendigos ... I've become the laughing stock of the _entire campus!_ I have classmates saying that I should go join a circus act from being so effin' ridiculous! Others are saying that I deserve to be checked into a damn mental institution! My locker and each of my assigned seats can't even go a day without getting smothered in graffiti! I keep having garbage thrown at me, insults sent through texts ... no matter where I go, I can't catch a break!"

After hearing all of the different situations that were going on in Mike's home, and not to mention all of the harassment that he had been putting up with upon returning from the winter getaway, I was caught off guard. The misery and terror on my face thickened, courtesy of how I couldn't help but think that saying all of that was only going to make the dark-haired teen want to step over the ledge even more.

"But whatever!" Mike went on, wiping some tears and drops of snot away from his nose with his arm. Shortly after that, he redirected his attention to the gaping drop in front of him. "My reputation is ruined—not that it even mattered in the first place! ... One of the only things that I had in my life that _truly_ mattered—my own _friends_ —were taken away from me! ... AND IT'S ALL MY DAMN FAULT!"

I didn't think twice before taking another step forward, hoping to death that it wasn't too big and would trigger my distressed friend's attention. Plus, I had to make sure that I was being as quiet as possible while stepping through the puddles that were covering almost every last inch of the rooftop.

"N-no! No, it isn't!" I proclaimed, madly shaking my head with my hands raised in a consoling manner. By this point, the aching lump in my throat felt like it was pushing against my Adam's apple, making it very difficult to swallow. "Michael, there's _no way_ that you can hold yourself accountable for anything that happened to ... t-to..."

I couldn't even bring myself to say any of their names. My bottom lip quivered a little and with every shaky breath that I dragged in, I could feel the nippy breeze tormenting my lungs. Then, to make this predicament even _worse,_ I could've sworn that I had a mini—but still very painful—heart attack when I saw Michael slide one of his bare feet a little closer towards the narrow edge of the roof.

Mike's whole body started convulsing from what I could only guess was him trying to contain more of his sobs. He leaned back and rested the middle of his back against the railing in order to prevent his legs from trembling as violently. While doing this, he still held onto the railing with the three remaining fingers on his mutilated hand. Unfortunately, he still had the risk of slipping from all of the rain and he refused to move his one foot back from where he had positioned it closer towards the drop-off.

The dark-haired teen's lips yanked back, exposing how his teeth were now clenched even _tighter._ It was honestly a miracle that they weren't breaking. He raised his unoccupied hand up to his face and pressed it over his bloated eyes, unable to prevent multiple teardrops from leaking through his fingers and continuing to fall. Once again, with my worried eyes never leaving Mike, I used this opportunity to take a couple of more fragile steps forward—but I'm afraid that I wasn't even near the halfway point yet.

"Y-yes, I _can!_ " Michael protested, keeping his red-rimmed eyes covered as he hiccuped and visibly choked on his cries. "I—I failed to get to Jess in time a-and she had—had to pay t-the price for my stupidity by g-getting her jaw _ripped off_ by a Wendigo! ... I s-should've made smarter choices in order t-to get to her faster! ... T-then, I p-pulled a _freakin' gun_ on Emily and—and _shot her_ without a second thought a-after seeing that bite mark! ... H-how could I be _so dumb_ in letting my paranoia gain control of me?! I-I might as well have popped her mom's chest open, r-reached in, grabbed her heart, and—and ripped it right out!"

I could feel the corners of my eyes starting to fill with hot water. "D-dude—" I stuttered out, but was silenced when the flannel-wearing teen forced himself to keep talking.

Mike tore his unoccupied hand away from his face and roughly threw it back down to his side, keeping his broken stare locked on the hundred-foot drop as the damp bandages that were around his one wrist started to flutter in the wind.

"I g-got your _best friend killed,_ Christopher!" He barked, starting to sound _very_ impatient and pissed off—all while continuing to sound distraught at the exact same time. Although, I couldn't tell if these extreme emotions were directed towards me, himself, or both of us. "If anything, you should be _eager_ to see me jump! I—I chickened out a-and instead of _helping_ Josh, despite his effed up mental issues ... I-I-I hid behind some _damn rock_ a-and _watched_ like some _pussy_ as he got his head crushed by one of those _monsters!_ "

My shoulders tensed up and I felt a single teardrop escape from my left eye as that god-awful, bloody picture filled my brain.

Josh had been in my life for as long as I could remember, so it obviously wasn't simple for me to accept the fact that he was now _dead._ We had been through everything together and even while juggling therapy, depression, and a variety of prescriptions all throughout his childhood, Josh always tried to put on a smile and wear his heart on his sleeve. He never allowed anything to get in the way of being there for me, regardless of what the problem was. He was more than my best friend—he was my bro ... and a chunk of my brain would _always_ hold a grudge against myself for how I acted in his final moments with me.

The last time Josh ever saw me, I participated in tying him up in some rundown shack and I ended up threatening to whack him with a two-by-four ... even though I was fully aware of his mental struggles and I recalled being able to sense that there was definitely some creepy shit going down that night. Not only that, but I had failed to rescue him—like the _horrible_ excuse of a best friend that I was—and the last thing I _ever_ got to see of Josh was the tiny stool that he'd been sitting on, surrounded by a splatter of blood. I didn't come to his defense or even attempt to console him ... and that was sure as hell going to haunt me until the day came in which I took my final breath.

"And if _that's_ not enough," Mike intensely proceeded as even more brutal cuts were revealed on his skin from the wet bandages unraveling. "I _f-failed_ to get Sam and Ash to safety! They w-were counting on me and—and I _effed up!_ ... W-when Sam accidentally made one of the floorboards creak, instead of calling out to the Wendigo to distract it like—like _s-she_ had done for _me,_ I did _NOTHING!_ ... T-then, when she was _y-yanked up into the air_ by her head a-and _pierced through her f-freakin' abdomen ..._ I don't—I don't know! I _panicked!_ ... I ran to the door a-a-and flipped the switch without even _waiting_ for—for Ashley to get the chance to follow! S-she got her ass _barbecued_ in that explosion ... ALL BECAUSE OF _ME!_ " While yelling those final four words, the flannel-wearing teen flew his unoccupied hand up to his forehead and a piece of me grew fearful that he was going to start attacking his skin with his nails right in front of me.

At the mention of Ashley, it felt like I had been pierced directly through the heart with the sharpest knife in all of existence. She was the girl of my dreams—so funny, beautiful, smart, easy to talk to ... and now, she was gone. I had made the huge mistake of constantly postponing the moment in which I finally admitted to her that I really did feel like I was in love with her. During that winter getaway, not only was I almost entirely unsuccessful in protecting Ashley from multiple things ... but in the final moments that would solidly guarantee whether we would die or survive until dawn, I ended up taking advantage of the Wendigos being distracted by hightailing my ass out of the lodge— _without Ash._ She had kissed me and refused to leave me behind in the maze of tunnels when I was struggling to walk with my limp ... and how did I repay her? By abandoning her at the worst time possible ... and that was also going to torment me all the way to my deathbed.

Nonetheless, as tragic as the past was, I acknowledged that it was unable to be changed. Right now, all that mattered to me was convincing Mike not to jump.

With the lump in my throat now perfectly resembling the feeling of being stabbed, I carefully took three more delicate steps through the sea of puddles. As this happened, I felt another tear manage to leak down my cheek and I noticed just how sore my lips were starting to feel from how large and heavy my frown was.

"Mike ... hear me out, man ... I know that this may be hard for you to understand now, but during that trip, we were _all_ on the same boat." I pointed out, still trying to sound reassuring—even though my expression was growing more fearful and alarmed by the minute. "It's not like any of us were _prepared_ to fight for our survival, right? ... _Nobody_ saw something as insane as some sadistic, cannibalistic creatures coming! _Everyone_ was simply looking forward to hanging out with each other again! ... W-we were _all_ scared shitless! ... And—and if the others were ... y-you know ... _still here ..._ I know for a fact that—that they w-wouldn't want you to jump off this roof!"

My brown-eyed friend hastily turned to look at me again, sending a sharp jolt of panic through my chest. For the briefest moment, I thought that he had somehow heard my footsteps over the sound of the rainfall. Nonetheless, since he was still holding onto the railing, it confirmed that he hadn't noticed that I was making an effort to get over to him.

"And what makes you so damn sure, Chris?!" Mike inquired, sounding fully miserable again. "Don't you remember what happened to Beth and Hannah?! ... T-they ran off into that blizzard because of _me! ... I_ knew perfectly well that Hannah had a crush on me, b-but instead of letting her down easy, I decided to take advantage of it for some—some _stupid, arrogant, half-baked PRANK!_ Then, Hannah was driven into _insanity_ a-and she _devoured_ her own twin sister in order to survive in the wilderness! She became one of those—those _things ..._ and instead of getting the proper burials that they deserved, Hannah had to be destroyed in a fire and Beth was put to rest beside an underground lake ... only to be dug back up and ripped apart, too!"

While saying that last part, Mike's voice dropped into something that was a mixture of a sob and a whimper. Once again, he clenched his eyes shut and shook his head, as if he was hoping that by doing that, it would somehow rewind time so we would have all of our friends—as well as our girlfriends—back.

I quietly drew in a somewhat jittery breath, automatically feeling the aching sensation in my throat increase from the cold air. It was starting to become _very_ difficult for me to keep battling against the urge to cry. My sad, overwhelmed eyes were stinging by this point, courtesy of how they were filled to the brim with tears and they were also being victimized by the unpleasant weather. Aside from that, with every second that ticked by with Michael standing on that ledge, the heavier my body felt. Right now, it felt like I was trying to support one hundred dumbbells at the same time ... but I still wasn't going to give up. I _couldn't._

The flannel-wearing teen wiped some tears and raindrops away from his lashes, sniffling as much as he could in his horribly congested state. As he did this, I noticed how he, once again, slid his one foot even _closer_ to the ledge and started to slowly move his other one after it. Within just a couple of more inches, I would be out of time.

"Michael! ... Michael, buddy, listen to me!" I exclaimed, desperate to get his focus back on me instead of on pursuing forward. "That _creature_ that burned up in the lodge _wasn't_ Hannah! Not anymore! I-it might've had her tattoo, but _that was all_ it had of her! ... A-and _each of us_ were responsible for what happened on the night of the prank! _We all_ could've done something differently ... b-but that's all in the past now and the past is beyond our control! I know that it isn't easy, but you _have_ to let yourself accept that!"

Suddenly, within just a couple of seconds after I finished that final sentence, I just barely detected the mild sound of something vibrating. Without a word, Mike reached his unoccupied hand into the back pocket of his jeans and retrieved his phone. That's when it dawned on me that he had gotten a text from somebody ... and as soon as I saw his reaction, I immediately recalled how he had said that he'd been receiving plenty of harassment through his messages lately.

First, the brown-eyed teen tightened his grip on the phone and squeezed it to the point where it was a surprise that it wasn't breaking. Then, with his jaws clutched and teeth grinding together again, Mike did something that I _definitely_ didn't see coming. With an overwhelmed battle scream, he threw his arm back as far as it could go and _threw_ his phone with full force over the drop-off of the rooftop. It zipped through the air and out of sight, making my jaw almost fall down to the ground. Following that, Mike's body drooped down into a squatting position with his three-fingered hand still holding onto the railing—but his grasp had definitely weakened compared to when I first found him out here. He openly wept with his whole body shaking, giving it away that whatever that text had said, _really_ added onto the stress that he was at war with.

Despite how unexpected this moment was—and not to mention how much it angered me to see what these cruel assholes were doing to my friend—I knew that it was essential for me to remain calm. Otherwise, I would only make this predicament _worse ..._ and as much as I wanted to tell Mike that those dicks had nothing better to do in their lives, I understood that this wasn't the _best_ time to add _more_ to that topic.

"Mike, I can't undo what's been done ... but I _can_ be here for you from here on out." I encouraged as I took another step—this one a little bigger than all of the other ones—closer to the railing. "Not only that, but I _want_ to be here—I _want_ to help you."

My suicidal friend scoffed, unmoved by my honesty.

"Nice try, Hartley ... but I already know that it's _hopeless!_ " He bellowed in a tone that was both angry and disappointed. "I'm _beyond_ help! ... There's—there's just _no reason_ for me to be here anymore! ... I-I-I was planning to ask Jessica to marry me, you know?" He wiped some more water away from his face, his eyes looking like they were on the verge of bleeding. "Sure, we had only been together for only a couple of months, b-b-but she made me feel something different! I-it was a feeling that I had _never_ experienced before, despite all of my other past relationships! ... A-a-and now, all because of _my dumb ass,_ Jess's b-body is rotting away somewhere in the mines back on that _freaking mountain!_ "

I took down a heavy gulp, which hurt and wasn't easy due to the lump that was _still_ resting in the direct center of my throat.

"I have _no doubt_ in my mind that she loved you, dude..." I said in a voice that was so soft that it was practically a whisper; but by some miracle, Mike shook his head, indicating that he had heard me.

"Well, it doesn't matter now ... _nothing_ matters." He slowly pulled himself back up into a standing position and touched the direct edge of the rooftop with the tips of his toes, sounding entirely depressed again. "A-all I want to do now ... is _escape_ from this living hell by putting myself to sleep—once and for all..."

"NO! Michael, _please_ don't do this!" I begged, feeling two more teardrops fall down my cheeks as I threw my hands up to the sides of my head. "Just—just think about your family! C-can you do that for me?! ... Your _parents!_ Your _brothers!_ How would _they feel_ if you killed yourself?!"

As soon as I said that, Mike almost looked like he had entered a trance. He pressed his lips firmly together, looking down at the lethal height with a similar expression to the one he had worn in the rescue helicopter forming across his features. The wind whistled through his drenched hair and some of the damp bandages that had been wrapped around his one wrist finally broke away. They dropped out of sight beneath the overhang in a tangled mess and fluttered elsewhere, but Mike didn't seem to notice. Even with all of the cuts being exposed to the storm, he seemed to only be caught up in thinking about what I'd just said.

I reached up and grabbed my glasses, removing them from my distressed face since I was having too much of a difficult time seeing through by this point. Since I was nearsighted, it was easy for my attention to remain on Mike without my vision constantly needing to blur in and out.

"They would be _crushed,_ Mike!" I went on as the urge to sniffle started to build up rapidly inside of me. "They _couldn't care less_ about some bigmouth news anchors or some arrogant text messages! You realize that, right? ... They love you _unconditionally!_ If you did this, j-just imagine how hard it would be for them to gather around the table for meals without you and—and to pass by your bedroom without you being in there!" My heart was pumping a thousand times per minute, refusing to slow down. "Even if your parents were to have another kid, it wouldn't fill the void! You can _never_ replace another human being!"

I had never actually met Mike's family before, but he had brought them up in multiple conversations in the past. His mother was a stay-at-home parent, who admired her family more than anything else on the whole planet. I had seen an old photo of her in Mike's wallet before, possessing a delicate grin, vibrant red hair that was scrunched up in a bunch of tight curls, and the same hazel eyes that the flannel-wearing teen had. Judging by that picture, I would never have guessed that she struggled with an anxiety disorder ... but despite that, Mrs. Munroe always made sure that she kept on top of her duties as both a wife and mother. No matter what was going on, there was _always_ supper waiting at the table for Mike by the time he got home from his Class President meetings and other after-school activities...

Mr. Munroe, on the other hand, was—or, apparently, used to be—a remarkably skilled accountant. In the same picture, I had seen him standing beside his wife with his arm wrapped proudly around her shoulders. He was wearing a classy suit and his hairstyle, along with his smile, looked _very_ similar to Michael's. In fact, if it weren't for his light tan complexion and excessively green eyes, Mr. Munroe definitely had the chance of being mistaken for Mike's twin.

At last, still in the same photograph, Mr. and Mrs. Munroe were surrounded by their five sons—Mike being the youngest one out of the bunch. His oldest brother—Rick, I think his name was—had returned home from Afghanistan and was wearing his military uniform while tasseling up eighth-grade-looking Mike's hair. One of the other brothers also had his arm looped playfully around Mike's neck, making him laugh. Then, at last, the final two Munroe boys were making goofy faces at whoever was taking the picture. One of them signaled peace with their fingers, while the other gave the eldest brother bunny ears. They definitely looked like a rowdy bunch, but it was more than obvious that they were a close family who loved each other to death.

Just then, a long, low, grumbling sound abruptly filled the air ... and with Mike's trance-like state making it clear that he was still hanging onto everything that I'd said about his family, he blinked dully at his stomach. Another tear was shed in the process, as if it had just struck him that during this time of the day, he normally would've been home and eating dinner.

"I'm hungry..." He said, sounding like he was speaking more to himself than at me in that moment. "Mom ... Dad..."

For the faintest second, Mike's grip on the railing looked like it had tightened a little again. I drew in another somewhat shaky breath at the sight and felt the tiniest spark of relief shoot through my chest like a bullet. However, I knew that we weren't in the clear yet. Mike was _still_ in awful condition and staring directly into the eyes of Death ... so, it didn't take long before that teeny-weeny piece of relief was devoured by the numbing nervousness that was flowing through every last inch of my body.

"You can trust me, dude ... _please._ " I couldn't help but whimper a little as I said my final word, at which my bottom lip slightly quivered and a small sniffle escaped from my system. "Regardless of _anything_ that happened in the past o-or what's going on in the present ... there's _always_ hope for the future. I can promise you that ... a-a-and, to be honest, it's the main thing that's keeping me right here on this roof with you. I have _hope ..._ and the thought of you taking your own life ... scares the absolute _hell_ out of me. E-even more than the Wendigos."

I was about to take another step forward, but immediately stopped myself when Mike glanced sharply over his shoulder again. He had his tearful eyes bitterly narrowed and a defensive scowl was masking his features again.

"Don't you _dare_ lie to me like that, Christopher Jacob Hartley! And even if you _weren't_ lying, you can keep your pitiful lectures to yourself! I'm already carrying _too much_ for me to handle!" He snipped, shortly before that powerless look returned to his light brown orbs. "W-why would _you_ care that I'm up here anyway?! We hardly ever hung out, even after being part of the same friendship circle for Christ knows how long! F-for crying out loud, the most time we ever spent together was when we were tying Josh up in that shack!"

A piece of me flinched, hating how that was true. Mike was known to have _far more_ popularity than me, so even though we attended the same college, I hardly spoke a word to him. Even when the group would hang out together, regardless of the event, I had adapted to minding my own business around Mike so much to the point where I barely communicated with him even then. For that, I felt like punching myself in the face—especially since I now understood just how damaged the dark-haired teen has always been.

I anxiously fiddled around with my nails. "I—I know ... and there are _no words_ that could _possibly_ describe how sorry I am for that, Mike. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions and ignored you for so long. By the sounds of it, I really _have_ been a terrible friend and I take _full_ responsibility for my idiotic actions ... but that doesn't change the fact that I truly _do_ care about you. And I'm not the only one! You matter to _plenty_ of people and your presence is still needed on this planet!"

"How can you be so sure?! Seriously, Cochise, _tell me!_ _..._ _How_ in the shit do you know?!" Mike demanded to know, almost running out of tears from weeping so much. "Hasn't it occurred to you yet that I'm _not_ a fighter?! I never have been! That super macho, charming guy that you and everybody else _thought_ they knew was all an act that I used in the hopes of building some _actual_ confidence in myself! ... But now, I understand that hope is for suckers! I can't pretend anymore! I'm _sick_ and _tired_ of getting knocked down over and over and _over_ again, each time even harder than the last! This world does _nothing_ but crap all over me! ... So, just let me do it the favor of ridding myself already!"

As Mike turned his back on me again, my eyes widened to the point where I could've sworn that they were seconds away from falling out of my head. Another bolt of lightning crackled through the air, still going unnoticed.

"WAIT! DON'T!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, feeling like I was about to vomit from being so overwhelmed. "You don't _have_ to do this, man! Please keep talking to me!"

"I'm through talking..." The flannel-wearing teen released the railing with his three-fingered hand, sounding almost entirely emotionless. "Goodbye."

The next leap that my heart made literally had me convinced that it was about to rip straight through my chest. At the same time, all of the color drained out of my skin and I almost couldn't believe the next thing that I did.

"NO!" I yelled louder than I ever thought my voice could go ... and with that single word being carried through the wind, I carelessly dropped my glasses to the ground and took off running as fast as my legs could carry me. My shoes trampled through the puddles, making the water splash, and for the smallest millisecond, I was convinced that I had somehow been given the superpower of increased speed. Not once in my life had I ever charged _this_ fast.

Just as Mike stretched his arms out at his sides and started leaning himself forward, no doubt ready to fall, I made it all the way over to the railing. With no hesitation, I shot one arm out and grasped the back of his collar harder than I've ever gripped anything before. Then, in one swift motion, I pulled him back, pinning his lower body directly against the railing again by wrapping one arm around his left arm and looping my other arm around his midsection. As all of this happened, I couldn't hold back my urge to cry any longer and buried my face into the moist material of Mike's flannel from behind, letting it all out. This really did prove that no matter what I said or did, I couldn't _really_ prevent Michael from making this drastic decision ... but that didn't mean that I was ready to call it quits yet.

"C-Chris!" Mike exclaimed as he quickly turned his head to look at me, looking just as shocked as he sounded.

"M-Michael, _don't do it!_ " I wept, shaking my head while keeping my face hidden against his back. "D-don't jump! D-don't kill yourself! _Please!_ "

"But—but, dude, I already told you—"

"I know _exactly_ what it's like!"

The dark-haired teen furrowed his brow in confusion, still looking caught off guard by my courageous decision to run up and prevent him from jumping by embracing him. There was a faint period of silence until another roar of thunder erupted through the stormy clouds.

"Wha...?" Mike couldn't even bring himself to finish the word, obviously trying to juggle a million thoughts.

I tightened my bear hug on him, just in case he tried at any time to push himself away from me.

"Ever since what happened last month on Blackwood, I can't go a day without feeling like I'm drowning in misery!" I bellowed with my eyes clenched shut, despite how much they were starting to sting from my tears. "No matter where I go, it stalks me like a ravenous animal does with its prey and turns me into some paranoid freak, convincing me that every ominous shape and every little noise is being caused by some monster!"

My shoulders started to tremble and I clutched a desperate handful of Mike's shirt with the hand that was swung around his midsection. While this happened, I could feel a billion tears racing down my cold cheeks and I was clenching my teeth so hard to the point where my jaws were already starting to hurt. But I didn't care.

"I-I'm nineteen-years-old, Mike! I shouldn't be _afraid_ of w-what's in my closet o-o-or under my bed anymore! ... I shouldn't even _believe_ in the existence of monsters!" I whimpered, feeling more like a child that was bawling and searching for comfort in its parent. "It's even a battle for me to get a full night's sleep now! _E-every single time_ I close my eyes, I—I see those ugly-ass faces of the Wendigo and the mutated bodies of our friends! B-body parts ripping, blood spewing, terrified screams c-combining with demonic shrieks ... I always wake up, gasping for air a-and covered in a freezing sweat!"

With every word I spoke, the more Michael's shock increased. It mixed together with sympathy, causing some new tears to glimmer in the corners of his puffy eyes and a frown to appear across his lips.

I couldn't stop crying, having no choice but to rest my knees against the bars of the railing in order to prevent myself from collapsing to the ground.

"Every single day, I-I can feel the pain and regret devouring me like—like an emotional cancer! O-out of desperation, I try searching for any possible way to make the agony go away ... even if it means going through an entire box of razor blades and slicing into my own skin! Sometimes, it feels like it actually _works ..._ but the misery _always_ finds a way to seep back in, _scaring_ and _tempting_ me to keep cutting. Ninety percent of the time ... I can't help but give into it..."

Mike sucked in a sharp breath and dropped his attention down to the arm that I had looped around the center of his body. Apparently, when I had thrown it around him, the soaked sleeve of my yellow cardigan had ridden up and exposed a variety of long scars that I had slashed across my wrist. Some of them were older and trying to heal, while others were visibly inflamed since I had inflicted them upon myself just this morning. They were burning from the raindrops running over them, but I didn't care.

"Oh—oh, Christ..." Mike whispered as he released the breath shakily. "Chris..."

I drew in a congested breath through my nose, still shedding tears. And when the flannel-wearing teen failed to say anything else, I continued.

"I-I try to disguise myself as an ordinary teenager ... I-I go to school, s-spend time on my phone, a-and put on a fake smile ... as if all of that w-will make _everything_ as good as new. Ashley, Josh, Sam ... I miss them all _so damn much! ..._ A-and if I hadn't been such a _coward,_ m-maybe there's a chance that I would've been able to help save them ... b-but like I said before, as much as it sucks ... the past really _is_ beyond our control. You and I are the only ones who are left ... a-a-and if you die, I'll be left all alone!" With some reluctance, as I exclaimed that final part, I lifted my head from my friend's back and stared directly into his eyes with my own still overflowing with tears. " _You're_ the _only_ person that I have left—the _only_ one that I can talk to about this pain that's going on inside of me and about what happened on that mountain without being looked at as some crazy person, Mike! W-without you ... I might as well be dead, too!"

Michael almost instantly shook his head. "No, dude. _D_ _o not_ say that. You have so much more to live for than I do. You even have a scholarship!"

"So what?! That doesn't mean that you are any less of a human being than I am!" I pointed out, staring at him pleadingly. "L-look, _nothing_ is going to go back to the way it used to be and the world is _never_ going to stop being shitty ... b-but I promise you ... this _doesn't_ _have_ to be the end. I'm right here ... a-and I know that we can—you know, _m-move forward_ in our lives if we _work together._ That's what the others would want us to do ... a-and I _really_ don't want the last thing I see of you i-is your body _splattered_ a-all over the concrete. S-so, Mike, I'm begging you..." My bottom lip trembled as more tears spilled down my face, and after a couple of seconds, I managed to finish what I wanted to say. " _Please_ don't jump."

For what felt like an eternity, nobody said anything and I refused to unravel my arms from around Mike. The only things that were preventing us from having total silence was the rainfall and occasional rumbles of thunder.

The dark-haired teen took one final glance down at the one hundred foot drop, drawing in another rickety breath. Then, at last, he said something that I could've sworn made me gain hope in the existence of miracles.

"T-this was a mistake ... today is _not_ my day."

The exact second after he finished speaking, Mike didn't think twice before firmly grasping the railing with both hands and climbing back over to the correct side of the rooftop.

I let out the deepest breath in all of mankind and ended up falling down on my ass, feeling what was like the weight of the world being lifted off of my shoulders. At the same time, as I started to bawl again—this time from _major_ relief and the most happiness that I've ever felt since the hellish night on Blackwood—Michael ended up collapsing on his hands and knees beside me. His arms and legs wouldn't stop shaking, and as he looked at me, I could see the strong amount of gratitude flickering through his swollen eyes.

"I'm sorry, Chris ... I'm so, _so_ sorry." He sniffled, at which I dragged myself over to him and wrapped him up in a tight embrace.

"It's _okay,_ Mike ... I'm just ... _unbelievably_ glad that you're okay."

About a minute went by with the two of us just sitting there on the wet rooftop, regaining our composure while letting out the rest of our sobs.

Then, as Mike leaned back from our hug and cleaned his face with his hands, he made eye contact with me again.

"I ... I _seriously_ can't thank you enough."

I wiped my nose with my sleeve. "For what?"

I had only been doing what I figured any other decent human being would've done. Instead of standing by and letting a suicide happen right before my eyes, probably while filming it and spreading gossip on the side ... I took action.

"Where do I start? For searching everywhere for me ... for not giving up on getting me away from that ledge ... for regaining my faith in hope..." Mike paused, a faint smile appearing on his face. "And most importantly ... for listening."

I returned his grin, silently giving a _huge_ thank-you to the Man Upstairs for giving me the chance to keep Michael in my life.

"No problem, man." I said, feeling the rain starting to lighten up. "That's what friends are for."

* * *

 **A/N: At last, after working on this one-shot for four straight days for all of you, my fabulous readers ... it is finished!**

 **I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed bringing this serious issue to your attention. :)**

 **Just in case any of you are wondering:**

 **1)** _Why was Mike barefoot? -_ **Since "My R" by Rachie is a Japanese song and one of the works that inspired this one-shot, it included the "tradition" of when somebody removes their shoes and leaves them during a suicide in order to represent them stepping out of this life and entering the next one.**

 **2)** _Why do Chris and Mike seem OOC? -_ **They seriously lost all of their friends to some cannibalistic creatures and they're struggling with depression, as well as PTSD. Nobody would be the same after going through something like _that._ **

**Remember : No matter what is going on, there's _always_ hope and people who truly care. If you know somebody who is suicidal, or if you are a victim of suicidal thoughts yourself, don't be afraid to speak up and get help. No matter what is said or done, you _do_ matter and the world _wouldn't_ be a better place without you here. In fact, you are somebody who makes it _better._ :) ****Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Don't let it lie to you and tell you otherwise.**

 **Also : Keep in mind, sometimes all somebody wants is for someone else to listen to them. You'd be surprised by how much just _listening_ could save a life. **

**_Matthew 11:28-30: "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."_**

 **Please don't hold back on sharing your thoughts! I'm always excited for feedback, so go ahead and PM them to me or write them in the reviews! :D**

 **Keep your chin up! Things _do_ get better! :) I love you all! *Insert heart emoji here* :D**

 **Anyway, I believe that I've said everything that I wanted to say.**

 **Until my next update, everyone!**

 **Crystalteen, out! :D :D :) :)**


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